


Filthy, Ridiculous

by JustJasper



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Felching, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: Everyone wants to do it on the war table.





	Filthy, Ridiculous

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Jared for the beta!

“ **I would always rather be happy than dignified.” ― Charlotte Brontë**

“We've got a quarter hour, if that,” Dorian says, as the Bull pushes the war room door closed behind them. “Do you think you're capable of getting it done in that window?”

“I don't know,” the Bull murmurs as he crowds Dorian against the edge of the war table. Huge great thing it is, carved from a tree that must have been a monster. “Usually it takes me that long to work you open, and that's when we're being quick.”

“Well,” Dorian says, as he turns in the Bull's grasp, sits on the edge of the table, “I took the liberty of making some preparations.”

“Grease spell?”

“More manual than that.”

“Shit.” He knows what Dorian looks like fingering himself open, stretching himself for the Bull's cock. He leans down and kisses him tenderly.

Dorian quickly turns it fierce, as he hastily undresses, two pairs of hands long familiar with the unison required to work his buckles, his laces, the straps and folds of his outfit. At least, enough of it to bare his bottom half, his leggings still hanging off one foot as he spreads his knees for the Bull to stand between.

“Every briefing I think of this,” Dorian says, as the Bull's belt and trousers go the same way as his own. “While Cullen's droning on about field reports, I think about you bending me over the map and fucking me silly.”

They're not quite on the map, though Dorian would be if he laid back, but it's still the war table. A great sturdy thing – the Bull's been wanting to see how it'd hold up to this, too.

“Just there, in front of everyone?” the Bull teases, as he has Dorian lay back against the table, pulls him forward a little, so his ass is hanging off, accessible. Presses a thumb to his hole, where he's a little loose and slick. “Me taking you while everyone gets on with the daily reports?”

“Oh, sometimes,” Dorian laughs, spreading his arms out above him. He finds one of the map markers with his hand and runs his fingers absently over it, not dislodging it from its place. “Sometimes I imagine them all carrying on as if we're not carrying on, ignoring us even as the table shakes. Oooh—”

The Bull slides two thick fingers steadily into Dorian, while his other hand strokes soothingly along the inside of his thigh, spreading him out.

“Or sometimes they're all scandalised, but they can't look away. What a sight I'd make of myself.”

One hand toying with the map, the other teasing him own nipple, hips rocking into the languid, easy slide of the Bull's fingers inside him – indeed, what a sight.

“And you, oh,” Dorian groans, “won't you fuck me now? Before we're out of time.”

The Bull replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock, slides inside as Dorian arches and moans. Achingly tight, hot, wonderfully familiar by now – Dorian reaches for him as he pushes forward steadily, coaxes the Bull's huge torso to crowd over him, legs wrapped around the Bull's thighs. Kisses him with teeth and tongue, gasping, moaning freely.

“I'll never tire of how huge you are,” Dorian says, as the Bull settles, thighs against the wooden edge of the table, balls pressed against the thick curve of Dorian's ass. “It's ridiculous. Fuck me ridiculously.”

“My speciality,” the Bull chuckles, and moves. Dorian digs his heels into the back of the Bull's thighs, setting pace. He doesn't want gentle, and the Bull likes to give Dorian what he wants. He spreads his hands wide on the war table for leverage and rolls his hips, pulling out and pushing back in over and over.

Dorian moves from toying with his own nipples to the Bull's, reaching out and grabbing between thumb and two fingers, pinching and pulling. The Bull grunts, rewarding Dorian with a particularly vicious thrust.

“Fuck, vint.”

Grinning wickedly, Dorian tugs again, lets a spark light up his fingertips; the Bull's whole body jerks in response, bottoming out inside Dorian and making him throw back his head and moan.

The huge table doesn't budge even as he builds pace, as the filthy sound of flesh on flesh builds and as Dorian lays back and vocalises without restraint, their moaning, grunting fuck echoing all around the war room. If Josephine came back to her office now, there's a good chance she'll hear them even at the other end of the corridor.

“Ah fuck, Dorian,” the Bull groans, as Dorian sparks his nipples again, feels it push his body over the brink; he hammers his hips into Dorian, presses in deep as he can as he comes, empties himself inside. Dorian pulls him close, claims his mouth as he spends inside him – it’s how Dorian likes to finish best, and the way his body throbs with it, the way he holds the Bull to him as he shudders at the feeling of the Bull finishing inside him – the Bull likes that best too.

“Kaffas,” Dorian says weakly, when the Bull has stopped shuddering. He's still hard, trembling, sweaty hands curling desperately on the map above his head.

“I got you, big guy,” he says softly, straightening a little. His half-hard cock slips out of Dorian with an obscene wet sound, and Dorian groans. Despite Dorian's attempts to squeeze his body around the new emptiness, the Bull's thick white seed appears at his hole. They've never done this, have they? The Bull hums thoughtfully, and gets to his knees at the end of the table.

“Bull? I—oh, Andraste's ass!”

The Bull licks his own spend up before it can drips onto the flagstone. He takes Dorians hips to steady him, to hold him still as he jerks in response to his probing, lapping tongue. The come continues to flow out of his slack body, so much of it – volume's always been a strong suit for him. Dorian's into it.

“Touch yourself,” the Bull tells him, and then spreads Dorian's cheeks and sucks at his hole. Dorian whimpers, swears, then the Bull can feel motion as Dorian strokes himself quickly.

It doesn't even take dozen strokes before Dorian comes, shouting as he does, body jerking and spasming, pushing more of his seed out for the Bull to greedily lick, pressing his tongue inside Dorian for good measure.

“You filthy brute!” Breathless, a laugh on his voice, as he collapses onto the table. “Quite perfectly filthy, aren't you?”

“Yup,” Bull says, using the edge of the table to help leverage himself to be feet. He leans back over Dorian, takes his come-covered hand and lifts it to his mouth to taste.

“Greedy, too.”

He sucks one of Dorian's fingers into his mouth and slurps noisily on it; Dorian gives a disgusted laugh and snatches his clean, damp hand back.

“Just filthy!”

“Yup.”

“Maker, sometimes I wonder why I chose you.” There's no heat to it as he lets the Bull kiss him, a languid, basking thing in the afterglow. A kiss that could become heated all over again, if they were to let it go on. A kiss that distracts them from the footfalls in the stone passageway outside until it's nearly too late.

“Crap.”

They break apart and hurry for their clothes, but stop in their tracks when a polite knock at the door sounds.

“Cullen is coming to my office shortly,” Josephine says. “If you don't wish to scandalise him, I would hasten your exit. If you only wish to scandalise him a little, he'll likely be along in four or five minutes.”

“How much do you suppose she heard?” Dorian asks, once he's sure Josephine has returned to her office.

“Enough that you're not going to be able to bribe wine off her for a while.”

Dorian groans.

“This is all your fault, you know.”

He's taking his time getting re-dressed, adjusting his straps and buckles unnecessarily.

“I definitely remember it being your idea.”

“Yes, well, if you hadn't fucked me so well perhaps I could have stayed quiet and we could have avoided detection.”

“Uh huh. Come on, let's go scandalise Cullen.”

“You know me so well,” Dorian says fondly, dragging the Bull down for another kiss.

“ **Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary.” ― Oscar Wilde**


End file.
